


singing to sleep

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Daisy's past, Director Daisy, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Singing, St. Agnes Orphanage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: ficlet written for tqpannie. Daisy sings to Coulson.





	singing to sleep

"That was beautiful."

"Oh!" she startles, glancing up, a little surprised to find him standing there in the doorway. "I didn't hear you."

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I just-"

She clears her throat and pushes the paperwork on the desk away from herself and blinks. "It's okay, I needed to call it a night. This will all be here in the morning, right?"

"Where did you-"

"My dad said my mom used to sing to me as a kid. That she had a beautiful voice. It's how she decided on my name."

But they both know that she can only feel that in her bones, like an instinct, a shadow memory that was handed to her.

"Got a lot of practice at St. Agnes, too?" she goes on, standing up from behind the desk. "They had a choir. Let me tell you about the ways I've tried to forget the Salve Regina."

"Latin," he says, watching her cross the Director's office to come stand closer to him in his sleeping clothes.

She nods. "But it's great when you're trying to fall asleep in a van. Works like a charm," she pauses and stares at his arm in the sling. "How is it?"

He pushes the elbow out a bit to show it to her. "I get to keep this one. Always a plus."

Daisy just sighs and peers at him more closely, almost scrutinizing him. She didn't have time to when they came back from the mission, diplomatic fires to put out.

"Are you sleeping okay?"

"That great, huh?" he shrugs. "I think it's the medication. I was about to make myself some tea, and then I heard you in the office. Saw the light was still on."

"Well, at least you didn't catch me in the shower," she jokes for a moment, then tries to take it back when she sees his cheeks start to flush. "Because why would you ever-."

"What were you singing just now?" he interrupts, coolly changing the subject.

"One of the recruits made me a playlist. I'm guessing that's a first?"

That makes him smile, because of course he would think something like that was adorable.

"Did you ever get your tea?" she asks.

They both start to head down the steps together at that, after she grabs her suit jacket, then shuts off the light and locks up.

She helps him to get the cup and open the herbal tea bag, while he gets the hot water in himself, but then she takes the cup out of his hands and holds it in both of hers.

"C'mon, it'll be easier if I carry it. Can you get my jacket?"

That earns her a truly grateful look, instead of protest, as he tucks her jacket under his arm.

Sometimes he looks at her like that if she gets him a cup of tea, and sometimes it's if she quakes the bad guys. But it's the same look.

Instead of trying to hide from it, she leads the way and he follows her down the hall towards his quarters.

At first she had insisted he stay in the Director's quarters because he'd earned it, but he insisted, of course. He'd helped her move in.

He opens the door for her and lets her inside where she deposits the steaming teacup on his nightstand and glances around.

"Thank you," he tells her, and she focuses on him again, instead of absorbing the details of his spare room.

"Sure, anything for a fellow agent," she says with a smile. "Okay. Goodnight. Oh, my jacket."

"Unless you were planning on singing me to sleep with the Salve Regina?" he says, handing the jacket over.

It sounds like a joke, like he's just picking back up on how their conversation began. Coulson's always been a good listener.

"You want to fall asleep to a Catholic chant?"

"I liked what you were singing before."

She can tell he's actually serious, his look too sincere in that way Coulson does. And they've been through so much together.

Why not? It's not like he didn't hear her singing before.

He puts her jacket over the back of one of his chairs and then gets into his bed probably the same way he does every night, then propping the pillow up under his head and reaching across his body for the teacup.

Still, she can't hide her embarrassment even though she sits on the very edge of the bed, and looks up at the ceiling and hums a few of the bars aloud before she stops and begins again.

"When the rain is blowing in your face  
And the whole world is on your case  
I could offer you a warm embrace  
To make you feel my love

Closing her eyes, she can practically hear him listening to her. She knows if she opened her eyes, he'd be watching her. And she hadn't thought about the song or the way it would sound singing it to another person.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear  
And there is no one there to dry your tears  
Oh, I hold you for a million years  
To make you feel my love

She wants to peek to see what he's doing, but she's afraid if she does she'll ruin the moment and burst into nervous laughter or worse, joke about the shower again.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet  
But I will never do you wrong  
I've known it from the moment that we met  
No doubt in my mind where you belong

I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue  
And I'd go crawling down the avenue  
No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do  
To make you feel my love

He hasn't said anything, and she can't help herself, she opens her eyes, but slowly, drawing them along the bed, up to his sling, and then to his eyes.

His lips are parted like he is about to say something, but he doesn't need to say it, because she knows. When he looks at her like that, it makes her feel beautiful, and like there is so much goodness inside of her and not all of the terrible things inside her she has to push down.

"I wish I'd been there for you earlier," she apologizes, breaking the silence, glancing away for a moment so she can stop blushing.

"You're here now," he says warmly, and lifts his prosthetic and puts the fingers against her face.

"How did you do it?" she asks him, touching her fingers to his. "Send me out there knowing that every time could be the-"

"Because I believe in the good you can do in the world. How could I lock that away, just because I-"

"I might have to lock you away," she teases him. "Or at least keep you somewhere safe before you do something too brave again."

He was covering for an Inhuman that they were attempting to extract from a foreign power. He took a bullet.

"Where would that be? Safe?"

"By my side. Where I can keep an eye on you," she says with a smirk, waiting for him to protest, but he doesn't.

Instead he props himself up on his good elbow, until he's sitting up beside her.

It's not the first time things have shifted dynamically between them since she became Director. These little moments all building on each other, making her think that her feelings for Coulson, while complicated, never felt so naked as they do now.

He sounds like he's about to say something, but she already made her move. His labored breathing matches hers, that first intensity and contact giving way to something slower, more confident, building up like so many little moments, but not hidden away.

The awkwardness of the sling between them, as they try to get a better hold on one another, and when his mouth opens under hers, she pushes him gently back down to the bed, moving over him, toeing off her shoes, and wrinkling the light wool pants.

He groans into her mouth when she sets her weight on him, careful of his arm, his tug-of-war between the pleasant friction and the confinement of his hand.

"Sorry about this," he says, motioning the sling to her, an apologetic look on his face. "I promise-"

Leave it to Coulson to apologize in advance when she's just had her tongue in his mouth for the first time. It makes her want to kiss him silly, so she does.

"We'll figure it out," she tells him, slowing things down again to explore, his hand on the buttons of her shirt just as she wraps her own around his hip slipping her fingers against his skin.

"In that case, I don't mind being locked away."

She'd like to throw away the key.


End file.
